Street Speed
by The Pen Vs The Sword
Summary: Station Square, the city of robots, where Robotnik has a hold on the city through crime and illegal street racing. But the arrival of a new racer in town is about to upset that balance. Rated T for some alcohol use, action, and peril.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Station Square

**A/N:** Hey, everyone.

**Sword:** Hello!

This idea started out as a one-shot, then a few chapters, then an entire story. We wanted to do a sort of noir/crime re-imagining of the Sonic universe.

**Sword:** I'm excited!

**Pen:** Is there no genre you refuse to taint?

All related characters and material in the story belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you. So without further ado, here it is.

**Chapter 1- Welcome to Station Square**

Tails grunted, straining to tighten the last nut on the car wheel. Then he laid down on the wooden creeper and kicked the ground, rolling underneath the vehicle. It was a nice car, at least twenty years old, painted cherry red, built with a powerful engine, and in good shape. He was happy to see the underside as well-maintained as the engine. He wished he had a car like this to play around with.

"How is it coming?" Tails wheeled out through the front and looked up. An orange and yellow robot stood above him, covered in grease like Tails. His blue-white, empty eyes examined the car.

"Pretty good so far," Tails said. "Just checking under here and I should be done, Emerl."

Emerl nodded and headed to his office. His joints bent stiffly and he nearly fell. Tails gasped, but the robot stooped low and pretended to pick something up. He disappeared into his office and closed the blinds.

Tails shook his head. _Must be running low on oil again_, he figured. He hated that Emerl pushed himself like that. Polish and rust remover were luxuries that Emerl rarely treated himself, too, what with all the monthly bills that piled up. So his hard shell casing that once possessed a brilliant sheen was now dull, dirty, and caked in grime, causing him to look like an ancient machine.

Finishing the check-up on the car, Tails snuck to the office's blinds. He pulled a small invention of his out of his glove. It was small and thin, like a laser pointer. After weeks of scrounging for parts in the junkyard out back and using his downtime to build it, he held the product of his work in his palm. Tails had not had much of a chance to test his latest creation or even give a name to it.

He crouched beside the window and held the pointer up to the glass. _Please let the signal work through windows._ He pressed the only button on the side and pulled the pointer down. To his joy, one of the blinds slowly bent in the middle, allowing a small glimpse into the office.

Inside, Emerl sat at his desk, his chest panel open. He pushed a button on his skeletal innards and a small capsule angled outside. Emerl grabbed a funnel off his desk, wormed the small tip into the capsule's opening, and then reached for his oil. He shook the bottle, his eyes dropping. When he poured the oil into the funnel, it was barely a drizzle. A few cups worth, nowhere near enough to sustain him for long.

Tails lifted the blind back up and looked around the shop. Work was very slow and their only job at the moment was the car. Tools of all kinds hung along the wall, coated in dust.

Absent-mindedly picking up a wrench and brushing the dust off, Tails brainstormed how he could buy oil for Emerl. He had no money of his own. Neither did his friends. He headed to the bathroom in the back, tossing the wrench up and down.

_Maybe I can do some work on the side._ But nobody he knew was hiring. They were just as bad or worse off than Emerl and he were. At least they could afford to keep the mechanic shop open and food on the table. _For now anyway._

He set the wrench down on the bathroom sink and wiped off the mirror. Peering close, he picked out bits of grease clumping his sandy orange fur together. His fluffy namesakes were worse, seeming to have acted like two giant brushes underneath the car and wiping up every ounce of grime in them. He turned on the sink and furiously scrubbed them.

_What about a loan to help this month?_ His muzzle and chest were nearly black and it took minutes of washing for him to reveal more of the white underneath. _Nah, that wouldn't work. The interest would be so high that we'd end up worse than we started._

He eyed the wrench and imagined breaking a headlight on the car. Nothing too bad, but enough that the customer shelled out a little extra when it came time to pay the bill. Tails closed his eyes and splashed water on his face. _No, what you thinking? That's not how you were raised._ Emerl would be upset, too. _That'd be no better than anything that old Egghead does._

A loud buzzer rang throughout the shop and Tails wiped himself off with the towel. Emerl opened the front door and Tails joined him. Waiting outside, a purple weasel tipped his large, brown Stetson hat and rested a hand on his gun holster. Flanking him on either side were two barrel-chested robots. A crude insignia of a grinning, mustached man's head was painted on their chassis. One of them stared at Tails, its piercing red eyes matching the terror of its hands composed entirely of four sharp claws.

"Morning," the weasel said.

"Hello, Fang," Emerl greeted in a tone that was flat even for a robot. The weasel smiled wide, flashing his titular long tooth that jutted past his bottom lip. A few seconds passed before Emerl opened the door wider, welcoming them in half-heartedly.

"Thank you," Fang said, strolling into the shop. "We'll try to make this short. Got a lot of places to go to today."

"Very well." Emerl led him into his office and shut the door, leaving Tails outside with Fang's robots. They stood at complete attention, never flinching, keeping a vigil watch straight ahead. Tails kept the car between them and himself.

Fang emerged from the office, thumbing through a wad of bills. "We did not have much work this month," Emerl tried to explain. "Maybe we could do something for Mr. Robotnik."

"What do you think he really needs from you that he doesn't have already?" Fang asked, laughing. "He has good mechanics already."

"Maybe we could give him something. A new car?" Fang raised an eyebrow and eyed the car Tails had been fixing. "I mean one from the back."

"One of those lemons in your junk heap? Oh, I'm sure that'd _really_ win him over." He finished counting the money and tucked it into his boots.

Emerl stood in front of him. "We can fix one up for him. Make it look brand new."

"He doesn't have time to wait months for that."

"Please," Emerl begged, leaning his head closer, "do not shut us down."

"Shut you down?" Fang beckoned his robots and they plodded to his side. "That wouldn't be good business for anyone. No, no. I'll tell you what we'll do. You're a couple hundred short. So you just won't have all the protection this month that you normally get."

Fang tapped one of the robots and it knocked aside a table full of tools. Then it attacked the walls, smashing tools and cutting down shelves, throwing and demolishing everything. Tails grabbed a hammer and wailed on the robot's legs. Its head swiveled to him, as if unsure how to register his useless attacks. It raised its large arm, its razor sharp claws poised to slice through him.

At the last moment, Emerl jumped in front of Tails. The robot whacked him through his office window. "Emerl!" Tails dropped the hammer and ran after him. His desk was overturned and his head was stuck in a trash bin. Tails pulled him out and helped him to sit up. Long scratch marks ran across his chest, but he otherwise seemed unharmed.

Fang appeared at the door and snapped his fingers. The robot stopped wrecking the shop and left with its brother. "I'll see you next month, Emerl." He tipped his hat again while Tails helped Emerl to his feet. "You're looking a little peaked there. Tell you what, why don't you swing on by Mr. Robotnik's place? He'll fix you up nice. Give you some fresh oil and a tune-up."

Tails stood protectively in front of Emerl. "And turn him into one of those drones you got outside?"

"Nah, with a little upgrade, he'd be a better fighter than those two lunks," Fang said.

"You won't take him. I won't let you," Tails said, raising his fists.

Fang laughed and clapped his hands. "Oh, this is rich! Fiery little mouth on this one! Might want to put some of that fire to work so you can pay for your protection next month." Then he left, whistling for the robots to follow him to the next place of business.

Tails set the desk up and guided Emerl to his chair. He went about straightening the office, constantly checking to make sure Emerl was fine. When he finished with there, he headed into the main shop. The wall was totaled and tools of all sorts were scattered, bent, or broken. Luckily, nothing had damaged the car. Tails thanked silver linings and started to pick up the pieces of the wall, tossing them in a garbage can.

"Hello?" A small, cream-colored rabbit entered, shrugging off a patchwork coat and smoothing her old, faded orange dress. She took off her brown skullcap and her long ears flopped out, as did a blue Chao. It yawned and perched back on her head, rubbing the sleep from its eyes.

"Hey, Cream. Hey, Cheese," Tails said, waving with a broken drill.

"What happened?" Cream asked, throwing her coat on a table.

"Fang," he said. He grimaced at their last bottle of wiper fluid, smashed open on the ground. "We didn't have enough, so…"

She nodded and stooped over to clean up. Cheese joined them, lifting the small parts.

"Tails? Is that Cream?" Emerl leaned on the entrance to his office. "You are late."

"Sorry, Mr. Emerl. I had to run an errand for my mom." Tails caught the half-truth in her eye.

"Okay. We will start class soon. Just give me a moment in here." He limped away.

"How's he doing?" Cream whispered, holding the last armful of intact tools.

Tails grabbed some of her load and stuffed them into drawers. "Not good. Pretty sure he's out of oil and who knows what else. And after today, I'm not sure we'll have the money to buy any. We're going to need to replace some the tools and the wall."

Cream leaned in. "I could try to find some extra work for you. There might be a job we can do together."

"No way. I'm not getting involved with anything illegal."

"It's just delivering messages. Run and tell a guy about a meeting. Nothing much."

He tucked away the tools and shut the drawer. "You're helping the mob. Why you ever let Charmy talk you into it, I'll never know."

Her face dropped. "Some of us aren't as lucky to have someone like Emerl to take care of us."

He sighed and rubbed his cheek. "Cream, I—"

"You know, I haven't seen my mom since last week. Her hours were extended. So every little bit helps." She blinked rapidly. Turning her head to cough, she surreptitiously wiped her eyes and calmed her breathing.

"Look, I'm sorry." He patted her shoulder. "I appreciate you trying to help."

She sniffed. "Don't mention it. What will you do though?"

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a heavy breath. "I don't know. Keep an ear out for any work."

"I'll do the same. Legal jobs," she quickly added.

"Thanks." He checked on Emerl, who appeared to have shut down to recharge. "You want to head out back?" he asked Cream. She nodded and they went to the junkyard with Cheese.

In one of the monstrous piles of car parts, old appliances, destroyed furniture, and general debris, Tails discovered a deflated ball. After he blew it up, he played catch with Cream and Cheese for a while until he tried to kick the ball to show off. It flew high over the junkyard's fence and bounced off an adjacent apartment window. The children looked at each other, panicked. At that time, Emerl called them in for their school lessons. They scrambled to the seats in Emerl's office, where he had written on a whiteboard their lesson for today, and acted as if nothing had happened.

* * *

_Thump!_ Knuckles awoke with a start and flipped on his side, facing his window. Grumbling under his breath, he checked his clock. His alarm had failed to go off. _Great. I'm going to be late._ He threw his legs over the bed and sat hunched over, blinking hard to disperse the foggy sleep. One of his hands wandered through the clutter on his nightstand, finding the painkillers. He downed a couple and flexed his hands. The pain was on the edge of his nerves. Nothing intense yet.

He picked up an empty beer bottle and shook out the last drop. Heading to the sink, he filled it with water and took a swig, washing down the pills. Moving unsteadily toward the window, he opened it and leaned out, searching for what caused the sound. He didn't see anything besides others like him, late for work and sprinting down the sidewalk.

The metal bumps on his bare red hands vied for his attention, but he ignored them. They were always the same: corroded, rusted metal hills that rose out of his knuckles. A pair on each hand, they were connected by uneven, thin scars and filed down to jagged points on their tips.

Knuckles left the window and freshened up in the bathroom as quickly as he could. Then he grabbed a cereal bar out of his kitchenette. He sighed at the plates piled high in his sink. _Guess I should wash some tonight._

The dingy apartment was so small that one needed only to take a few steps to move from the kitchenette to the cramped bathroom to the living room, bedroom combo. Knuckles grabbed his security guard cap off the headboard of his bed. The black cap fit snugly over his dreadlocks.

While he adjusted the cap, he looked at the boxing gloves hanging on the wall. Almost pure white, with red paint chips here and there that stubbornly clung to them. The gloves had seen better days. All around the gloves were newspaper clippings about local boxing matches. In each of them, a younger Knuckles raised his fists triumphantly for the photographers. In one, Knuckles' lip had been busted wide open by "Bad Bill." He touched his lip, a small closure left behind, one of many old wounds and scars to remind him of past fights. The most prominent clipping read "LOCAL FAVORITE 'KNUCKLES' WINS CHAMPIONSHIP!" in large, bold print. On it, Knuckles lifted the golden belt for the cheering crowd, hardly able to see out of his swollen black eyes.

As Knuckles reached for his boxing gloves, the bumps on his hands finally forced him to notice them. He frowned at them and his younger self, who had no such deformity on his hands. Knuckles shoved his hands into the gloves and fitted them so the bumps poked out of the holes he made on the top. Grabbing a can of spray paint, he sprayed the spikes until they were as white as the gloves. He punched his fists together, minding the spikes. He jabbed weakly and walked down to the corner bus stop.

Thankfully, one of the later buses was ahead of schedule and already loading up. Knuckles climbed aboard and paid the fare. The robotic driver attached to the steering wheel thanked him.

The whole ride, Knuckles sat by himself, leaning against the window and watching the buildings pass by. A few stores he once knew were closed and a new market had opened for business that he vaguely recalled being renovated several months beforehand. All this barely registered in his mind and his vision went hazy as he daydreamed, longing for better days.

"Next stop: Angel Island. All those for Station Square Bank and Station Square Plaza, please wait until the bus has come to a complete stop" the driver said through the speakers. The bus finished crossing one of the bridges separating the small Angel Island section of the city from the rest of Station Square. Knuckles stood as the bus slowed to a stop and climbed off. Across the street was the bank. Large gold letters spelled out its name and welcomed all the rich, fashionably dressed citizens coming and going.

Inside, the opulence of the clientele was matched by the décor. Brightly furnished mahogany walls were interlaced with gleaming golden separators. The marble floor reflected every face that looked into it and the fine forest green carpet of the offices was soft to the touch.

Knuckles headed to the employee lounge in the back, where a few other security guards were hanging out. One nodded to Knuckles. He returned it and stamped his time card.

Afterwards, he took his position at the front doors, keeping a watchful eye on anyone that passed him. Not that he needed to put in much effort. His reputation preceded him and if anyone forgot, one look at his gloves caused people to give him a wide berth.

But every once in a while, someone decided to test him. "Loser," a young man muttered as he walked in with a few friends.

"Want to say that a little louder?" Knuckles asked, clenching his fist.

The man turned around and sneered, his face very punchable. His jaw stuck out in such a way that Knuckles prayed he would say something else. It was a clean, perfect shot, an easy knockout. "Got nothing to say to a has-been."

Knuckles wound up his fist, but a hand held him back. He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. An orange echidna stood there, shaking her head. The group had already filed into one of the teller lines, so Knuckles dropped his arm.

"And what did you think you were going to do?" the echidna asked, smoothing down her maroon blazer.

"Throw them out before they start anything," he said.

"Look, I can't have unnecessary violence in my bank. You know that. And I can't have employees showing up late, no matter who they are."

He sighed. "Sorry, Tikal."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and tapped the middle of her forehead. "Come to my office."

Tikal's office put the others to shame. Lavishly furnished was the only way to describe it. Several rows of bookshelves attached to the wall held enough books about business to induct anyone into her position. A piece of abstract art that looked like silly putty pulled and stretched to its limits was fixed to a pillar beside her desk. Knuckles sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, dreading the oncoming lecture.

She shut the door. "We have a special delivery coming in tomorrow night." He breathed a little easier. "I'd like you to be there."

"You expecting trouble?"

"In this town?" She let the question dangle for him to answer himself.

"What is it?"

"Have you heard of the Master Emerald?" she asked.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, some huge gem. Supposedly has legendary powers or something like that." His jaw dropped. "That's coming here?"

Tikal nodded and sat down. "Its owner would like to place it somewhere secure. Given our reputation, we've been chosen. Can I count on you tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, of course."

She leaned forward, searching his violet eyes. "Please, Knuckles. I know you still have that boxer's urge to fight. You were—are still in your prime and what happened was terrible. But don't let it affect your work. I don't want to let you go, but I'll be forced to if this keeps happening. Okay?"

He lowered his gaze. "Okay."

"Good. Be here at six tomorrow." He turned to leave. "Knuckles?" She smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. At the end of his shift, Knuckles declined an invitation from the other guards to join them for a drink. He rode the bus back to his apartment, passing the police station on the way. He wondered if Vector and Espio had been promoted detective yet. He couldn't remember the last time he saw them. Then again, he didn't make himself very available to any company. Knuckles filed away the thought of checking in on them one day, which eventually became lost in the folds of his tired mind.

* * *

Amy drummed her fingers testily on the desk. She frowned, glaring at the crocodile before her, who tried his best to act like her pressure wasn't bothering him. Yet the constant squirming, shifty glances, and shuffling and re-shuffling of papers needlessly gave him away.

Finally, he covered his eyes, refusing to look at her. "Vector," she said.

"If you have any further questions, please talk to the front desk, Ms. Rose," he told her. He sounded like an answering machine. She turned to his partner, a chameleon who wouldn't back down from her intense stare. He calmly matched her with a thousand-yard stare; the result of his intense martial arts training, Amy supposed.

"Cut a girl a break here, guys," she pleaded. "Just one little tidbit. A quote even." She clicked her pen several times, holding it at the ready above her notepad.

"You know the department's answer: No comment," the chameleon said. He flicked a bit of dust off his clean tie. It was a far cry from Vector's, hanging loosely around his neck. Amy let it slide, as he had been working longer hours than her.

"Look, one comment," she stared at Vector as he peered out between his fingers. He quickly hid his face again. "One comment and I'll be out of your hair. Not even one for each story. You pick. The recent string of robberies, Robotnik's races—"

"No comment," the chameleon stated.

"C'mon, Espio. Can you at least confirm that Robotnik has ended the gang war once and for all? Don Cardag's missing and a lot of his former associates have been seen with Robotnik now."

"We can neither confirm or deny that," Vector said. "No one has filed a missing person's report."

"That's because you don't file a report on a missing crime boss," she said, jotting down in her notepad. "You trench the lakes. Or in Robotnik's case, check if there's any new roboticized members."

"Ms. Rose, we need to get back to our work. Would you kindly leave?" Espio asked. "If you have any information regarding a missing person, please see the front desk."

She snatched up her camera and purse. "Can you at least tell me if you're investigating the possibility of it?"

"We have several on-going investigations," Vector said, finally daring to lower his hands. He kept the brim of his officer's cap low, shielding his eyes. "That's all."

Amy snorted and left the station, unsatisfied as always. She wondered why she continued coming back time and again to interview those two. _Because they're the only ones who will talk. _She flipped through her notepad. _Still, that was more trouble than it was worth._

She tapped her pen on her teeth and walked down the sidewalk, pondering how to put a spin on what she had. "Local police no closer to solving Don Cardag's mysterious disappearance," she mumbled, writing it down. "Looks like the power is all but consolidated under 'The Eggman', Rosy readers. My own sources say the police are searching for him. Between us, we know the truth, don't we?"

Amy paused at the street corner lamp, using the light to finish writing. "Check those Eggman robots a little closer. You may see Don Cardag among the latest victims. As always, stay sweet. Amy Rose." She dotted the final period with a sharp, proud jab.

A roaring engine zipped down the dark streets and a shiny blue car pulled alongside her. One glance told Amy that, from its sleek hood to the pair of fish-tail spoilers, it was built to race. In the only seat, a hedgehog leaned close to her. She couldn't get a good look at his face, but was certain she had never seen him before. The car didn't belong to any of the normal street racers either. Perhaps he was new to town.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do you know where I could get a tune-up?" he asked. He flashed a toothy grin and Amy found herself a little charmed by it.

"You could head to any of Robotnik's garages," she said. "But if you want the best, go to Emerl's. He knows what he's doing." She gave him directions to the garage.

"Emerl's," he repeated. "Thanks, Miss?"

"Rose. Amy Rose of the Rosy Report."

"Thanks, Amy Rose of the Rosy Report," he said. She chuckled and shook her head. The driver revved up his car and took off before she could ask his name. She watched him turn a corner and twirled her pen in her fingers.

_Hm, a new racer?_ If that was the case, then this was juicy material and she had first dibs on the scoop. She jogged back to her office, determined to find out anything about the hedgehog. She called several contacts, ignoring their rants and curses about waking them. _Tomorrow, I'll pay a visit to Emerl's_, Amy thought, marking it on her calendar.

* * *

Tails turned off all the lights on the outside of the shop. The lessons had finished hours ago and Cream left shortly after to run more errands. He worried about her dealing with those dangerous people, but there was nothing he could do or say to sway her. Emerl had tried talking her out of it several times and she pretended like those took effect. If Tails had the money to spare, he would gladly give to her so she wouldn't have to be a courier.

He stayed quiet about her errands to Emerl. Cream needed the money to get by and they couldn't afford to help her. _Can barely make ends meet for ourselves._ After calculating the damages today, Tails resolved to skip meals so Emerl could put the money toward the repairs and buying replacement tools. If they were lucky, they could spring for a little oil as well.

When he jumped for the shutter door in the front and started to pull it down, a pair of headlights blinded him. He froze in place, afraid Nack had returned for a second round of leveling the shop. But as the headlights dimmed, he saw a hedgehog jump out of a racecar.

"Hey, is this Emerl's?" the hedgehog asked. He was twice Tails' height and his wind-swept quills seemed as if they were permanently blown back, always caught in the rush of speeding through the street.

"Yeah, it is," Tails answered.

His light green eyes smiled and he thumbed his car. "Great. I heard you're the best in town and I need someone to take a look at my car here."

Internally, Tails jumped for joy. He maintained a calm outward demeanor, trying not to appear too excited at having more work. "Sure, we can. It's a bit late, but you can leave it here overnight if you want."

"Sounds good." He hopped back into his car and drove it inside. Tails shut the shutter door behind him.

"Oh, I don't think I caught your name," Tails said.

He spun around. "Name's Sonic."

**A/N:** What do you think so far? Do you like it? Hate it? Have suggestions? Please, let us know.

**Sword:** Ooo, does this mean we can talk like we're in the forties?

**Pen:** No and stop encouraging him.

**Sword:** Fugghed about it!

**Pen:** *sighs*


	2. Chapter 2: Rough Night

**A/N:** Well, we'd like to thank everyone for the feedback so far.

**Sword:** Thankoo! Onto the story!

Right, right. As always, Sonic and all related material belongs to Sega. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission.

**Sword:** *races off in her own car* See you guys at the end of the chapter! *nearly hits Pen*

**Pen:** Watch it, you clod!

**Chapter 2: Rough Night**

Tails started work on Sonic's car bright and early. In the morning light, it looked very expensive and well-taken care of. When Sonic arrived to check on his progress, Tails asked if he built it himself. "No, no," Sonic said, laughing. "I won it a long time ago."

"You've done a good job at upkeep then," Tails said, checking the engine.

"I don't know much about upkeep," he said, leaning on the car. "I don't think I caught your name."

"Miles. Miles Prower. But everyone calls me Tails."

Sonic smiled knowingly, as if he expected that. "Anyway, I'd probably break this if I tried fixing it. I take it to a mechanic when something's acting up."

"That must get pricey."

"Yeah. But the winnings help."

"From races?" Tails tested the battery's voltage.

"That obvious, huh?"

Tails nodded. "Racers are the only people around here who have cars like this." Satisfied with the battery, Tails changed the oil. As he drained it, he asked, "I guess you're here for a race?"

"Yup. Heard Station Square has some of the biggest and best street races in the country. Figured I'd drift in and see it for myself."

"They are big," Tails said. "But dangerous. Anything can go." Once the last of the oil dripped out, he added a fresh bottle. "Usually, people die."

"There's always that chance when you're going fast," Sonic countered.

"Not like that. Robotnik's races are worse. Not everyone who dies does so from an accidental crash. Sometimes, people don't even die on the course." He searched the rest of the engine for any other problems, found none, and closed the hood.

"Do you know how I can enter?" Sonic asked.

Tails shook his head. "I don't know much beyond what most others do."

"I can tell you," a female voice chimed in. Amy entered the garage, twirling her pen and a thumb prepared to flip her notepad open. "Hey, Tails."

"Hey, Amy. Sonic," he said, pointing at her as he slid under the car on his creeper, "this is Amy Rose."

"Of the Rosy Report," Sonic added, offering a handshake. "We've met."

"Just Amy is fine," she said, taking his hand.

"Well 'Just Amy,' I'm 'Just Sonic.'"

Amy giggled and opened her notepad. "You're incorrigible. My readers like that."

"No, I'm plenty full of courage." He puffed out his chest.

She scribbled in her notepad while Tails wheeled himself out. "Courageous enough to enter one of Robotnik's tournaments?"

"I'm always up for a race. If the cars are fast and the pot's good, then sign me up and I'll pay the entrance fee now."

"You'll have to sign your own self up," she said. "Speed is the currency around here. And since it appears that Robotnik's now in charge of all street races and other dubious activities, you'll have to impress him to enter a tournament."

Sonic crossed his arms. "How?"

"Winning a couple of races. Show what you're worth. Although like he pointed out," she nodded her head at Tails, "it is dangerous."

"I'll be fine," he assured both of them.

Tails sighed, finishing up with the car. As much as he admired the confidence, he hated to see another new face taking on the races. He surmised that by this time tomorrow, he would very likely be working on this same car after it would be brought in by a new owner who would claim to have won it and insist any blood was from roadkill.

He put away the tools and Sonic paid Emeryl, who exchanged a few words of warning of his own. "Do not take these events lightly," he said before hobbling back to his office. Sonic watched him curiously. A light of realization flickered in Sonic's eyes and he turned to Tails, slipping him a little extra money.

Tails gawped at the bills and shoved it back. "No, I couldn't."

"Take it. You did a better job on my car than the last mechanic I took it to."

He looked down at the money and felt like he could hug Sonic right then and there. "Thank you." Scratching his head, he had the urge to offer something in return. "Just come back if you need to and we'll fix up your car. Day or night."

"Sounds good, bud."

At that time, Cream arrived for the daily lessons. "Just who I needed to see," Amy said, pulling her aside. "Do you know where Charmy is?"

"At the home," she said, letting Cheese out her hat. "If you hurry, you can still catch him."

"Thanks." Amy handed her several bills, adding extra to the amount as usual. Tails was grateful for her, filling in the support he wished he could for Cream. Amy arranged a place to meet with Sonic and bid them farewell. "Our interview isn't finished yet."

"I look forward to the rest," he said.

* * *

Amy stamped her foot impatiently as the bus lumbered on and swung her grocery bag. Several new passengers found their seats and she glared at the driver. Of course, the metallic face smiled dopily back at everyone. _I could've run there at this rate!_ She partially blamed herself for browsing too long at the candy store, but hoped the extra care would be appreciated.

Finally, the bus stopped at her destination and Amy flew off. She rushed across the street, ignoring the traffic, curses, and honking horns. Before her was a squat, grey two-story building, not any larger than a small business office. A faded sign in the front yard read "Chao Garden's Children's Home." Above the sign, a peeling, painted white Chao sporting a halo waved at all visitors.

On the steps, Tikal leaned over a child and a Chao doodling together, praising their work. As Amy approached, she stood and dusted off her pants. "Hello, Amy."

"Hey, Tikal. Is Charmy still here?"

She shrugged. "He might be in the back. I haven't seen him in days."

"Thanks," Amy said. She grabbed a few pieces of candy out of her bag and passed the rest to Tikal. Instantly, the child abandoned the drawing and begged for a piece.

"After dinner tonight," Tikal said.

The backyard was a garden, where dozens of children frolicked and played. Plenty of Chao joined them or slept nestled in the various trees and bushes. A pond claimed the middle of the garden and a few children splashed each other to delighted shrieks. Amy picked out a young bee, flying above the pond and creating a small wake that soaked all those nearby. Then he climbed higher into the sky, twisting and turning. Amy called to him and he zipped to the ground and raised his goggles to his forehead. "Hey, Ms. Rose. What do you need?"

"Information, Charmy," she said. "Is there a race tonight?"

He grinned cheekily. "Why? Do you want to join?"

She produced a wad of money and the candy. His eyes gleamed and a drop of spit dangled from his lip. "I know someone who wants to. Now, is there?" He jumped for the money and candy, but she yanked it back.

"Yeah, there is," he said, never taking his eyes off the candy. "Eight at the old chemical plant."

She tossed him the candy and tucked the money into his goggles as he devoured the sweets. "What about any tournaments? Is Robotnik hosting one soon?"

"Dere's tawk of one," Charmy said between mouthfuls of chocolate. He chewed heartily and swallowed. "No one knows when, but—" He bowed his head, gulping down the rest. "But he's going to offer a big prize."

"What is it?"

"Don't know." He popped another piece in his mouth. A hyper spark began to fizzle in his pupils. "Big and valuable. That's all I know."

Amy handed him another bill. "Okay, thanks. Now go get cleaned up." He smiled wide, his teeth a mess of taffy chunks and melted chocolate. He beat his wings and zoomed to the front, thanking her. Amy opened her notepad, writing all the information down.

"Big and valuable." She tapped her pen on her chin. Big and valuable. For Robotnik, that could mean anything from a treasure of his own to an illicit item on the black market.

Her phone alarm beeped, reminding her of her meeting with Sonic. She left the garden, yelling her goodbyes to a swamped Tikal on her way out. All the children had some inner candy sensor and had gravitated to the poor echidna, clamoring at her knees and hips. Tikal held the bag above her head, shouting, "No!" again and again.

"Really appreciate this, Amy," she said, wading through the children. "I hope you didn't give Charmy anything. You know how he can get."

As if on cue, the bee flew by and knocked the candy out of her hands, scattering it onto the sidewalk. The children made a mad dash for the sweets, snagging up what they could. Tikal tried vainly to gather up the candy, but it was too late. "Just a little."

"Why do you hate me so?" She waved farewell to Amy and herded the children inside for a nap.

On her way to meeting Sonic, she received a call from one of her contacts. He claimed to have turned over every stone he could and searched for information about Sonic. All he found was that the hedgehog won several races, earning titles such as "Speed Demon" and "The Blue Blur."

"He also has a habit of giving away any prize money that he doesn't need for his car or traveling expenses. Then he packs up and heads to the next race, popping up here and there."

"So he's a drifter," Amy said.

"Looks to be the size of it. Seems he helps folks out sometimes with problems."

"Problems?"

"Yeah. Crime or general issues."

Amy smirked. "A Good Samaritan, huh? One of the few needles in the world's haystack."

"You could say that."

She rounded a corner and arrived at the spot where she was supposed to meet him. "That kind of help would be useful against Robotnik."

"Don't I know it. See you later."

"Thanks. Bye." She hung up and wrote down all the information. _It'd b__e nice if he did help us._

Very soon, Sonic sped up beside her. She hopped in, sitting in his lap. "Comfy?" he whispered in her ear.

She suppressed a shiver and pressed back further into him, earning a slight grunt. "Very." Then she directed him to the chemical plant. Sonic broke every speeding law, dodging and weaving through the traffic. All the while, she interviewed him, asking questions when she wasn't holding on for dear life.

* * *

Despite having all day to sleep, Knuckles hadn't taken advantage of it. He lazed about his apartment, had a couple of drinks, shadow boxed, and mindlessly watching sports games. He headed into work an hour early, afraid if he stayed cooped up in the apartment a moment longer, he would tear the building down.

So he was somewhat tired when his shift started. He stood at attention with several other guards in the bank's rear, waiting for the Master Emerald. Much to his chagrin, the driver arrived an hour late. Knuckles mustered up a stink eye for him and supervised the rest of the guards in unloading the emerald.

The crate containing the emerald was heavier than expected. Knuckles lifted the bulk on one side while the other guards picked up the other. Step by step, they carried it up the ramp and into the bank itself. Knuckles silently thanked the architect of the building for placing the vault on this end of the bank.

A pair of people walking on the sidewalk stopped and turned to watch them. Knuckles paid them no mind until they approached. "Hey," he called to the driver, "Get them out of here."

Up above, a shadow darted across the rooftop. Too late did Knuckles realize the two figures measured at least twice the driver's height. "Hurry up," he hissed to the other guards. They hastily brought the crate into the bank and set it down.

The driver blocked the path, ordering the figures to turn back. One hoisted the driver by his neck and threw him into his truck. The driver crashed through the passenger window and laid half-in, half-out.

The guards drew their pistols and Knuckles punched his fists together. The figures stepped into the light, which reflected off their cold, metal chassis. A few more jumped from the rooftops and stood in a row. Each of the robots sported a different coat of paint, a fearsome rainbow from red to blue. They were marked with an E, followed by three digits.

In the street, a car and a motorcycle screeched to a halt behind the robots. The driver of one squawked, "Hurry up!"

The robots peered at their opponents, their beady red eyes dilating and shrinking, as if taking photographic memories. "You're trespassing on private property," Knuckles said. "Leave now or we will be forced to escort you from the premises." They didn't budge and the driver laughed. "Escort it is."

The robots leapt into different directions, spreading out. The guns went off, pinging and denting their armor. Knuckles rushed the nearest robot, swinging hard. The barbed ends of his fist pierced the metal. His hands stung, but he pulled out and punched again. Electricity crackled out of the robot's dented chest and it toppled over. The rush was exhilarating and a wave of familiarity engulfed him. He was in the ring again for a moment, the truck's headlights those of the flashing cameras, the cold concrete simply a hard mat.

Another of the robots rushed up behind Knuckles. One hook and he sailed into the truck's headlights, smashing his forehead into one. The cracked light stayed on, illuminating his intimidating opponent. Knuckles touched his head, staining his glove with blood.

Growling, he jabbed, left, right. This robot was faster. It ducked, dodged, and struck back. Knuckles stumbled, but caught its arm. He wrapped the arm underneath his, holding the robot in place. Then he wailed on its torso with his other fist. The robot tugged and yanked, slowly slipping the arm out of his grasp. Knuckles punched down on the arm's elbow joint, shredding through it. The robot lurched back, clutching its arm and he was sure if it could feel pain, it would be screaming.

Knuckles jumped and delivered a mighty hit, knocking off the robot's head. It fumbled about for a moment, trying to catch him with its good arm. He raised a foot and tipped its shaky knees. The machine collapsed, shutting down.

One of the other robots had been taken down after numerous bullets. The remaining robots split up, one taking to the rooftops and the other piling onto the car in the street. "Hey, hey! Watch the paint!" the same driver yelled. A flash of green poked out of the window as the two vehicles made a u-turn and drove off. With the emerald safe, Knuckles ordered a few of the others to chase after the car.

He climbed a nearby drainpipe to the roof. But he ran out of pipe several feet from the top. Finding nothing else to use, he jammed his fist into the wooden building, crying out. The sharp pain flooded his hand and he seethed for a few moments, biting his lip. _Guess I should be thankful it was wood and not brick._

Now, he was only a few feet from the top. Reluctant to damage his hand further, he jumped for the ledge, ripping his fist out on the way. He latched onto the ledge's edge and scrambled onto it, hefting his weight up with his good arm.

The robot was far ahead. Knuckles had no time to rest. He gave chase, panting and smacking into air vents at first. Then he cleared his mind, picking up speed.

Ahead, the robot turned at a dead end. Its torso spun around. A slot opened on its shoulder and a black sphere popped out. In the center, a red light blinked rapidly. Knuckles quickly changed directions, heading diagonally as the sphere exploded. The shockwave knocked him off balance.

The robot reached the end of the block again. The street was too far to cross and they were at least a few stories high. Knuckles pumped his legs faster, sucking in air through his teeth.

However, the robot seemed willing to chance jumping and stood on the rim. Knuckles tackled it, wrapping his arms around its legs. The robot fought with him, turning back and launching another black bomb. Knuckles let go, leaping aside as the bomb bounced a little ways and rocked the roof in its blast.

A shrill ringing pierced his ears that he tried to dig out. He crawled shakily to the destroyed end and peered down at the sidewalk. The blurry pairs of images came to and swapped sides with their twin dance partners back and forth. Knuckles shook his head, forcing his eyes to concentrate.

People gathered in a circle around the wreckage. The robot's head was caved in, supposedly after landing on the concrete head-first. The torso was badly damaged and one person had pried it open. A small, stripped raccoon with facial scars was inside, connected to various components of the whole machine via needles. Cords plugged into a head gear and wrist and leg cuffs, the latter two of which strapped him to a seat taking up most of the space. Overall, the raccoon was cut up fiercely, not all wounds fresh, and bleeding from a gash on his head.

"Don Cardag," someone exclaimed.

Another kneeled down and checked the body. "He's dead!"

"Quick! Call an ambulance!"

Knuckles retreated from the side. The adrenaline of the fight subsided and he plonked back down to the present against a stairwell. Don Cardag, in one of Robotnik's suits. The rumors were true. He'd been roboticized.

That didn't leave much for him to do there, so he headed back to the bank. He was the last to arrive, as the rest of the security guards waited beside the truck. The driver was recovering and one of the guards offered to take him to the hospital. The others had already moved the Master Emerald to the vault and were waiting on Knuckles to open it.

He inserted his keycard into the vault's key reader and typed in his password. The large round door opened with a _click!_ and the team carried the crate inside, safely storing it.

"Those were Robotnik's robots, right?" one of the guards asked after they shut the door.

"I think so," a second answered. "They sure looked like it."

"We'll have to step up our security," Knuckles said, addressing each of them. "What happened with the other robot?"

"They got away," a guard said. He produced a green feather from his pocket. "All we found after we lost them." Knuckles took the feather and examined it, spinning it in his fingers. "We think it came from the driver." He handed the feather back to the guard.

"Be sure to tell the police that when you call them," he said. "I'm going home."

"What happened to the other robot? Did you lose him?"

Knuckles cradled his fist, massaging the bones as he walked past the truck. "Yeah. He dropped off the radar."

The last bus had already run, so Knuckles had no choice except to walk home. By the time he crossed the bridge, it was late and his hands flared fiercely, burning from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. He took off one of the gloves and saw a ring of dried blood at the base of his spikes. His fingers were bruised and sore.

Across the street, a bar's warm glow called to him, like a light to a moth. The neon sign BARBON'S BAR hummed on the edge of hearing and a letter or two blinked out now and then. The pain worsened in his hands and his apartment seemed too far. He wanted, needed anything to dull the pain and fast.

He headed into the bar, blinking at the bright lights. A decent-sized crowd packed the place, laughing and chatting. Knuckles worked his way to the bar and ordered a shot. As soon as it arrived, he gulped it down, feeling a little lighter, but no better. He ordered a second and a third, downing them as well before the throbbing subsided, traveling to and resting in his head, ready to pound violently the next morning.

"This seat taken?" a sultry voice asked. Knuckles' droopy eyes glided upwards to a bat in a skin-tight, hot pink shirt and violet jacket. She didn't wait for an answer and sat beside him. He ignored her and called the bartender for another drink.

"Rough night?" she guessed. She caught the bartender and whispered in his ear, making him fluster and fix her a drink.

"You could say that," Knuckles said, finishing his shot. He set the glass on the bar unsteadily.

The bat pulled some lipstick from her purse and touched up her lips. "Bad break-up?"

Knuckles groaned and wiped his face, tired and grumpy, and his irritation growing fast the more she bothered him. "What's it matter to you?"

"Call it curiosity, Knuckie."

_Knuckie?_ He peered closer at her. "Have we met?"

"Doubt it. You couldn't forget a woman like me." She dropped the lipstick into her purse, then jerked her head at his gloves. "Saw it on your ID." He looked down. His keycard was sticking out. Knuckles tucked it in.

"I'm Rouge," she said, offering her hand. He didn't shake it and she frowned for a moment. Then she tapped his glass. "You look like you could use refill. Allow me." Rouge whistled for the bartender and he filled their glasses. She raised her drink and grinned, her soft pink lips stretching into a sharp, toothy smile. "Bottoms up."

**A/N:** Whew. Sorry this took longer than we expected. We've just been really busy. By the way, where's Sword?

**Pen:** How should I kno-oof!

**Sword:** *runs into Pen, pinning him to the hood* Hey, Pen! Come to join me! *races off*

**Pen:** Stoooooooooop!

Hope you people out there enjoyed this. Please, let us know what you think of the story so far. We'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions.


	3. Chapter 3: A Clean and Fair Race

**A/N:** We're so happy that everyone has been enjoying the story so far. We'll try to keep that momentum going with this next bit.

**Sword:** *zooms by, dropping Pen off*

Want to do the honors, Pen?

**Pen:** *stands and pushes everyone out of the way* Move…Restroom…Sick…

Guess that's a no. As always, Sonic and all related material belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and please enjoy.

**Chapter 3: A Clean and Fair Race**

The chemical plant was a series of abandoned buildings, old and liable to fall apart at any moment. The only thing holding them together was the rusted framing, exposed to all and on the verge of snapping itself. Dozens of pipes, mostly intact, connected one building to another. Large silos peppered the area, some empty and some containing leftover chemicals after the owners moved the business elsewhere. Residue from spills or leaks had poured onto the road and hardened in violet spots.

All in all, it was one of the more dangerous areas to be racing, breakneck speeds notwithstanding. Sonic didn't seem bothered by it though. To Amy, he was raring to test his luck on the track. She stood off to the side in front of the parked cars with the other spectators, who all hooted and hollered cheers and jeers as Mighty explained the rules.

"This is a two-lap race," the red armadillo said, walking in front of the revving cars. "First one to cross the finish line wins. The course is marked with flares. Don't try to deviate from it. We'll be watching." He pointed upwards to a swarm of flying, crude wasp-like robots, with a camera attached to each where the stinger should have been. "Not that I'd recommend you try it anyway. For those new here, this place is pretty toxic. You'll be safer the closer you stick to the track.

"Let's make this a clean and fair race." A few of the drivers roared their engines in response. "First place gets a thousand rings." He pulled out the wad of bills, each marked for one hundred rings. "Let's go!"

Sonic turned to Amy and smiled, giving a thumbs up. She clapped along with everyone else. A hedgehog stood off to the side, holding up a flag. Fifteen engines roared from fifteen varying vehicles, ranging from muscle cars to a limousine of all things. They inched closer and closer to the starting line, their hoods quivering in anticipation. The audience held a collective breath. The flag came down, slowing the world for a split second, and they were off in the blink of an eye, followed by the wasps.

Amy turned to one of the televisions set up among the crowd. Each displayed a different racer and tracked their position. Sonic was near the back of the group.

Around the first bend, Sonic overtook a few of the racers. He came up behind the limousine. It proved especially difficult to maneuver around. When Sonic veered left, the limo threw most of its length in his way.

On a curve near a silo, Sonic tried to pass on the outside. His tires squealed as he turned sharply and hit a pile of chemical sludge hard. The goop flew onto both cars and Sonic fought with his, trying to keep it steady. His rear bumper tore off when it smacked a pole. Amy gasped, but the strike set him straight.

The limo driver, an orange, striped raccoon, poked her head out in time for Sonic to pass. She tried to block him, but crashed into one of the empty silos. She smacked her forehead and pounded the wheel as she fell into last place.

Meanwhile, Sonic and the others finished their first lap. Amy caught the crowd fervor and cheered him on. Leading the pack was a purple car, stretched out as if it moved at the speed of light.

Sonic approached the car carefully, testing it. The car copied his driving, staying in front of him constantly. Sonic suddenly jerked to the right, pulling up beside it. The driver smashed the car into Sonic's, pinning him between it and one of the buildings. Blinding white sparks showered them, obscuring Sonic from view.

Amy crossed her fingers. His car was ripping apart and bits of metal fell behind him. An upcoming series of vertical pipes separated them. Half of his car ran off the road, violently shaking as it bumped and jolted on the rough ground. A silo rushed up to meet him. Sonic pulled back onto the road, sideswiping the silo with a grinding squeal of tearing metal.

The other car had pulled further ahead. Sonic sped up and rammed into its rear, throwing off the driver. When he tried to take advantage of the sudden jolt, the driver caught on and shoved him off the road again into a building.

Crashing through a window frame, Sonic raced along the empty plant on a narrow pathway, high above steel drums below, surprisingly still filled with the violet chemicals that should've been drained. _Lucky us_, Amy thought. Once or twice, his rear wheel nearly slipped off, riding the crumbling edge. Outside, the first place car was to his side, slipping away from him.

Sonic punched forward, searching for an exit. Eventually, the path widened and he headed into the darker half of the building. The robot trailing him crashed into a beam and lost track of him.

Amy frantically searched the other televisions. However, there was no sign of Sonic. _No, no, no_, she worried, clutching fistfuls of her quills. Where was he?

Suddenly, Sonic crashed out of a boarded up section and into the first place car. The crowd gasped and roared enthusiastically as he fought for first. The other car pushed back, both bashing the other for dominance as the finish line encroached on them.

Sonic steered away and braked a little before bashing the back of the purple car. The opponent spun out of control and he crashed right through. The windshield smashed into splintered sections and the driver, a violet swallow, braced for impact as the third place car barely missed t-boning her. Instead, it turned sharply, hitting her side with its own, and formed a sturdy roadblock.

Large numbers of the crowd moaned and whined about losing bets. Amy jumped up and down as Sonic screeched to a halt past the finish line. He hopped out, collected his winnings from Mighty, and grinned at Amy.

"Congratulations," she told him. "That should've gotten some attention." She pointed out the swallow, who drove to a couple of other birds, one with an unpleasant smirk and the other large and imposing. "That was Wave of the Babylon Rogues team."

"She wasn't too hard," Sonic said. Amy shot a skeptical look at him, then his car. "I said 'too hard.' "

"She's not the one you have to worry about. That'd be Jet." She nodded to the green hawk of the group, who caught their eyes. The feathers sticking straight up on his scalp bobbed as he talked to Wave.

"Jet, huh?" Sonic rubbed his chin as the trio left.

The limousine edged through the crowd, its end wrecked and its lights broken. The driver seemed extremely worried, beating her fists on the wheel. "You done messed up good this time, gal."

Someone climbed onto one of the parked cars and shouted, "Cops!" A frenzy swept across the crowd and car wheels squealed as everyone took off. Amy hopped into Sonic's car with him as sirens appeared on the horizon. The hedgehogs followed the other cars that disappeared deeper into the chemical plant.

They emerged on the other side back of the plant and back onto the city streets. Unfortunately, a squad of cars had anticipated this and waited there. A few of the racers crashed into the small police blockade, flipping onto their roofs.

Sonic weaved through the cars and zipped down the street. But a few of the police cars made it through the plant and chased him. "Head to my place," Amy told him. "It's close by."

He turned down a narrow alley and barely missed the traffic on the next street he joined. The cops halted at the end of the alley, piling into one another and spilling onto the street. The traffic merely drove around them. Their sirens died and Amy smiled. "We're in the clear."

Two more police cars driving the opposite direction spun around and started to chase them. "Not quite," Sonic said.

One of the officers leaned out of the window with a megaphone. "Pull your vehicle to the side of the road!"

Sonic stopped hard. Too hard. The police shot by, but his rear wheel wobbled. "C'mon, stay together," he muttered, flooring the gas. They swooped by the slowing police and weaved through a red light. The police tried to follow, but two of the other racers crashed in front of them, wrapping around a street lamp and stalling the police long enough for Sonic to disappear.

The hedgehogs pulled up to a thin two-story building. Sonic parked in the alleyway beside it, against a dead end brick wall. Together, the hedgehogs pushed a dumpster in front of the car and wrapped some discarded tarp along the car's outside. Then they tossed garbage on top of it until it resembled a second dumpster. It wouldn't fool anyone up close, but in the dark, nobody from the street would notice.

"This won't smell good," Sonic said, throwing aside a garbage can.

"It's wrecked and you're worried about the smell? Tails will take care of it," Amy said. "Now, come on! Inside!" She opened the front door of the building. The bottom floor belonged to an antique store, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. The top was one long hallway and had a bedroom and an office door stenciled _The Rosy Report_.

Amy ushered Sonic into her bedroom and hid him in the closet. "Stay here. I'll come get you when it's safe."

She shut and locked her bedroom door just in time. Several knocks rang throughout the building. From down below, someone called out, "Who's there? Is that you, Amy?"

"It's okay, Mr. Wentos!" she said, descending the staircase. "I'll get it!"

Expecting a hoard of officers to bust in, she was very relieved when she opened the door to Vector and Espio. "Good evening, Ms. Rose," Espio said, nodding.

"Good evening," she said. She faked a yawn and rubbed her eyes. "What's with all the racket outside?"

"There was a race tonight," Vector said. He grinned and stood a little taller, proudly thrusting out his chest. "We broke it up though and thankfully no one's been hurt too bad."

She suppressed rolling her eyes. "And that's got what to do with me?"

"One of the racers was seen fleeing in this direction," Vector said. "We lost him in this vicinity."

"So you decided to target me? Shouldn't you be following procedure and checking the whole street?"

"Nobody else on this street tracks the races like you do," Espio said.

"I keep track of all news, crime or otherwise. I'd be a poor reporter if I didn't."

Espio frowned and crossed his arms. "We're just pursuing the most likely route. We could come back tomorrow with a warrant."

Vector had lost interest in Amy and was craning his neck to examine the alley. Amy grabbed his attention once more when she opened the door wider. "Let's get it over with. I have a lot of work tomorrow and I don't need to be bothered."

"Thank you," Espio said, bowing and stepping inside. The pair searched the bottom floor, performing a cursory sweep. While they were in the living room, there was a loud _bump!_ directly above them.

"Is someone else here besides you and Mr. Wentos?" Espio asked, shining his flashlight in Amy's face.

"Oh, sometimes the air conditioning acts up in this place." She knocked on the wall. "It's pretty old and kicks on start-up. You know how it is."

Espio narrowed his suspicious eyes. Vector nodded, standing from behind the television. "Yeah, our apartment is like that. The plumbing always gets stopped up and sounds like a gunshot when we unclog it. We once pulled out a lint ball this big." He formed a circle with his fingers. "Remember that Espio? See, our shower pipes connect to the toilet's. There was so much pressure that after we got the lint out, a geyser shot out of the toilet. Espio was drenched in—"

"I don't think this is the time or place for that, Vector," Espio warned. "Let's check out the top floor and be done with this."

_Thump!_ All eyes turned to the ceiling again and then to Amy. "Maybe we've got lint in the pipes, too," she said good-naturedly. _What are you _doing_ up there, Sonic?_

They climbed the stairs and Espio searched her office while Vector headed to her bedroom. Amy flipped on the lights and tried not to glance at the closet. Her room was not much different from her office, save for a bed instead of a desk. Files, papers, and half-finished articles traveled from the office to the room and back nonstop. Vector poked at some of the stacks and thumbed through some newspaper clippings.

"It's an organized mess," she said.

"At least there's some organization," Espio said, walking by. "Maybe you should take note, Vector."

"Hey, my cases are all in one place."

"I know." The chameleon checked under the bed. "Crammed at the bottom of your drawer."

"Whatever." Vector tugged on his tie. "There's nothing here anyway and I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat."

Espio started to follow him out the door, but the closet caught his attention. He opened it and Amy bit back a gasp. Only her clothes greeted him. He pushed them aside, flashing his light in the dark corners and coming up empty.

"Espio! C'mon!"

He turned off his flashlight and followed Vector, looking at the closet one more time. Amy scooted him out and closed the door. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Rose," Espio said at her front steps. "If you see anything suspicious, be sure to call us."

"Right." He stared at her hard for a moment, but she stood firm. "Good night."

"Good night," Vector said. He pushed Espio along to their car parked on the street. "Let's swing by Donut Diner."

"Just what we need this late: sugar-coated sweet bread."

They hopped into the car and Vector cranked it up. "Hey! Don't pretend like you don't love their Bavarian cream! And don't eat all of those before we get home this time!"

Amy closed the front door, locked it, and dashed back to her bedroom. She flung open the closet and frantically threw her clothes aside. "Are they gone?" a voice asked above. She looked up and found Sonic against the ceiling, his hands and feet pressed into the walls.

"Yeah, they're gone," she said. "You can come down now."

He walked down the wall, careful to avoid the clothes rack, and fell onto the floor. "I heard you let them in. Figured they might search the closet sooner or later. Are they outside?" He checked the window, angling this way and that for a peek.

She yanked him back. "No, but they'll be patrolling for a while. Best off if you lay low here for a while."

"Oh? Are you inviting me to stay with you?" he asked, indicating her bed and waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Not so fast, blue boy."

"That's not in my vocabulary. I'll stay somewhere else. Don't want to put you out."

Amy grabbed his hand and dragged him down to her office. There, she cleared off her desk and chair and retrieved a blanket from one of her desk drawers. "Do this often?" he asked as she handed him a pillow and sat him in the chair.

"It's easy to lost in your work," she said, covering him in the blanket.

He kicked his shoes onto her desk and snuggled into the chair. "Hm, this is pretty good." He leaned back in the chair and yawned. "Thanks. For hiding me, too."

"You're welcome. Thanks for getting us out of there in one piece."

He nodded and let out a longer yawn. Smacking his lips, he closed his eyes. Amy lingered there a little longer and smiled at his head poking out of the blanket, so content and carefree. _Wish I could be like that for a day._

She left and flopped onto her own bed, crawling under the blanket. The events of the day caught up to her, flooding her body in a torrent of exhaustion and knocking her out very quickly.

* * *

A bright light burned into Knuckles' eyelids and he blinked rapidly. He was in his own bed. He rolled over, slapping his forehead and looked around. Everything was normal, nothing out of the ordinary. _How did I get home?_ He vaguely remembered Rouge and the shots, then there was a blank.

He rolled out of bed and put on a pot of coffee. He ignored the thundering pound in his skull and tried to piece together last night. Short fleeting memories of getting into a car of some sort. Flashy. Purple or pink? There was the apartment hallway, then nothing.

Knuckes poured some coffee into a thermos, grabbed his cap, and found his gloves under his bed, his keycard still inside. _Well, at least that wasn't stolen._ He checked himself in the mirror. Bruises and some new scabs. _Not as bad as I thought._ He bandaged what he could and slipped on the gloves. His right hand ached fiercely when it curled and he left that glove off. A few bumps stood up prominently along his hand, so he set the bones straight, wincing with every one, and wrapped the bandages up to his forearm to hold them in place. By the time he finished, he was more tape and bandage than fur, resembling a half-finished mummy.

At the bank, several news vans were parked out front, as were a few police cars. He wasn't surprised. Sipping his coffee, he steeled himself and maneuvered through the crowd, bowing his head from the flashing cameras. Each bulb blinded him and increased his headache.

Tikal was in the lobby, talking to a couple officers. When she spotted Knuckles, she made a beeline to him. "Are you alright? No one's been able to get in touch with you all night."

He yawned. "I was tired. Chasing down a robot will do that to you."

"They say it was Don Cardag in the one you ran down." She watched him for confirmation. He nodded and polished off his coffee. She ran a hand through her dreadlocks and studied him. "You look terrible." Tikal reached out, touching his forehead and he grunted, tilting to the side.

"I'm fine."

Her doubtful look trailed down to his body. In the bright light, his purple bruises shined all the more noticeably. "I would've thought you would be smart and see a doctor."

"No need. I took care of it myself," he said.

Sighing, Tikal shook her head. "I want you to go see a doctor and then go home. You're not working today or tomorrow."

"But—"

"This isn't up for negotiation, Knuckles." She patted his arm and turned him to the door. "You've done enough. We'll be closed most of the day anyway until this gets sorted out."

Knuckles grumbled, but didn't argue. As he headed out the door, she called after him. "Take care of yourself. Please."

He puffed out a defeated air. "Yeah, sure. You too."

* * *

Amy woke bright and early that morning and peered outside the window. Sonic's car was visible through all the trash and debris. She dressed and headed to her office, where Sonic snoozed, a little drool dribbling down his chin. He looked pretty cute and Amy hated to rouse him.

"Hey," she said, tapping his leg.

Sonic snorted and licked his lips. He swung his head wearily in her direction. "Morning."

She jerked her thumb. "We need to get going before anyone sees your car."

Nodding, he dropped his feet and leaned on the desk, running his hands over his face and through his quills. "Right, right," he mumbled. He sniffed in a deep breath and stared at the few papers left on her desk. "Robotnik Seizes Control of Cardag Crime Rackets," he read aloud from one paper. Then he turned to the articles scattered on the floor, most of the headlines covering Robotnik as well. "Me thinks you're a little obsessed with him."

"No. I just print what the news is too afraid to," Amy said, gathering the articles together and filing them in a drawer.

"Even if you have to do it alone?" She stopped for a moment. "I saw the bylines. 'By Amy Rose' on every one."

"Yes," she said, shutting the drawer. "Even if I have to do it alone."

He stood, stretching his arms and legs. "And you're not afraid Robotnik will retaliate for this slander?"

"Libel," she corrected, then shrugged. "I'm a little scared, yeah. I'd be stupid not to be. Also, it's not libel if you're printing the truth."

They headed downstairs, taking care to sneak past Mr. Wentos' room. Outside, only a few people were up and about. Most were on their way to work and only paid the hedgehogs a courtesy "Good morning" as they briskly strolled by.

Amy and Sonic cleared away the trash and assessed the damage. The car wasn't as bad off as they assumed last night. Some large dents and scrapes, a busted headlight, and parts of the engine were smashed somewhat. But on the fourth time cranking it, the car started up. "Yes!" Sonic said, clapping. Amy hopped in and they carefully backed out, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible in a beaten-up vehicle.

As they drove to Emerl's, Sonic turned on the radio. "Wonder if any of my exploits from last night are on."

Amy tuned the radio to the news station. "—and once again, if citizens have any information regarding the criminals from last night's race, they are advised to contact the local police department."

"Aw, just missed it."

"In other news, the Station Square Bank was the site of an attempted robbery last night while a new item was transported to its vault. The bank manager declined to comment on what the item was."

The voice changed to one Amy was familiar with. "Thankfully, the theft was prevented by our incredible security guards." _Tikal!_ She turned the volume up, but the news anchor was talking again.

"One of the thieves was the missing Mr. Cardag, alleged to be Don Cardag of the Cardag mafia family. Eyewitness reports claim that Cardag was in a robotic suit and fell from a building fleeing from the bank's guards. Many say he was hooked into the robot's systems, controlling it himself, but police refused to comment why he was there or why he would attach himself to the robot."

"He was roboticized," Amy said to the radio. "Stop dancing around it. Everyone can tell."

"Uh, roboticized?" Sonic asked.

She shut off the radio. "It's what Robotnik does to his victims once he's done torturing them or whatever he does at his estate."

"What kind of torture?"

"Depends. I've heard everything from hacking off body parts to injecting drugs that make your blood feel like it's on fire. And much worse." She looked back at Sonic's horrified expression. "They don't call him Dr. Robotnik for nothing."

"So, what's this roboticized thing then?"

"Oh, well, like I was saying, once he's done, he'll remove the person's heart and replace it with an artificial one. The artificial heart is connected to a robot of his choosing and he hooks the robot's movement up to the person's nervous system. So he controls you and if you disobey, he can inflict punishment or kill you at will. They say that once you're roboticized, there's no way to reverse it."

Sonic whistled low. "He sounds pretty bad."

"No, he's worse than that. He's a ruthless monster." Although he nodded, she had a sense Sonic wasn't buying that and had already mentally filed Robotnik into the "Typical Mob Boss" folder. She pointed to the right. "Turn here and take the second left." He raised an eyebrow. "It'll only take a minute."

He followed her directions and slowed down in front of Chao Garden's Children's Home. Several of the children were playing out front. "Robotnik put about half of those kids there on his own."

"And the others?"

"Gang wars. A lot of people get caught in the crossfire. Families are torn apart and countless friends are gone in the blink of an eye." Sonic directed his solemn face at her. They silently watched the children for a few minutes more. "I've seen too many people die because of Robotnik and the others. Orphanages, shelters, crisis centers— they're all overwhelmed on a daily basis. And not everyone is lucky to get help."

"Like Tails?" Sonic asked. When she glanced at him, he added, "It's pretty obvious."

"Yes," she said. "They were cut down by one of the gangs. His mother worked at a hardware store and his father was coming by to see her. The gang thought the store was a front for a gambling den." She sighed. "Tails was a baby at the time. I doubt he remembers them. Emerl adopted him and took him in when no one else could afford to, not even Emerl. But I'm afraid that with Don Cardag's death, Robotnik will control all of Station Square."

"Wouldn't that mean no more wars?" Sonic merged back into traffic and they avoided making eye contact with anyone staring at the car's damage.

"Yes, but now the city is fully in Robotnik's grip. He'll own it all. Every racket, every front, every laundering business, every company remotely connected to the mob. And there's few who aren't. He'll be the ruler. With his reckless street races and total power, they'll be a lot of others in Tails' position soon enough."

He looked down at her. "Why help me then if you hate the races and Robotnik?"

She smirked and raised her head. "I've been doing some digging, Mr. Speed Demon. Or do you go by The Blue Blur these days?"

"Uh," he scratched his cheek.

"Word is that you help people. Particularly with hopeless issues."

"I've been known to. But why not tell the police all this?"

Amy rolled her eyes and turned around in the seat at a stoplight. "Because the cops that aren't paid off by Robotnik aren't equipped to handle this sort of thing."

"And me and my busted car are?"

"Look, whoever wins the tournament gets to meet Robotnik personally in his estate. The place is a fortress, but if we can get in there and get some evidence, maybe, just maybe, we could get him convicted." The light changed to green and Amy fell into his chest when he accelerated. "If not here, then on a national level. So will you help?" She put on her best set of pleading eyes and bit her bottom lip by a fraction.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he said, pulling onto the street. Emerl's was down the road. "You can drop the face. You had me back at your office. Nice addition with the orphanage by the way."

As they parked in front of Emerl's, she nodded. "I'm a reporter. I know how to play the heartstrings like a violin." When she hopped out, her expression sobered and she leaned on the side of the car. "Thanks."

He winked. "No problem."

Tails walked out of the back, wiping grease off his hands. His eyes bulged out at the car. "What happened? Did you try to hit every racer on the track?"

"Haha, it is to laugh," Sonic said. "Can you get it fixed by tonight?"

Tails snapped on a pair of gloves. "I'll try. Step aside."

**A/N:** Hm, we wanted to put more into this chapter, but I think we'll save it for the next one. Anyway, please, let us know what you think of it so far and thank you to all the people who have been reviewing it and leaving comments! We really appreciate it! I know it sounds like I say that all the time, but it's the truth.

**Pen:** *emerges from restroom* Ugh…

Want to make a final quip?

**Pen:** Too sick…Hate you all…Uh. *collapses*

**Sword:** *picks him up in the car* To the hospital!


	4. Chapter 4: Former Contender

**A/N:** Hello everyone. To start, we'd like to thank Tempest of Reach for his input on the last chapter, which led to some edits of the race and police chase. We'd also like to thank everyone who has reviewed this story so far: Whitney911, TheKhaosKing, June Dune, Super Racer, DW611, Nova Lioness, and Tempest of Reach— especially the latter for his input for the last chapter.

**Sword:** I'm baaaack!

How's Pen doing?

**Sword:** He's doing fine and said to tell everyone he still despises them.

At least he's alright then. As always, Sonic and all related material belong to Sega. The story, Sword, and Pen belong to me. Please do not use without permission. Thank you and please enjoy.

**Chapter 4: Former Contender**

At first, Knuckles planned to head on home and beat up his punching bag. But when his hand flared up, he gave in to Tikal's order and headed to the hospital. The wait was excruciatingly long and the doctor didn't make matters any better, tsk, tsking him over Knuckles' patch job. He cleaned and re-dressed all of the wounds neatly, wondering aloud why Knuckles refused to come sooner. The echidna stayed silent and sat there, leaning and bending this way and that when told. By the end, he was able to fit his right hand back into his glove, albeit gingerly and as long as he took care not to move it too much.

In addition to the better dressing and a hefty bill, the doctor prescribed several medications, none of which Knuckles bothered to pick up. They never worked. _I know what the best prescription is._ Night had fallen and the clubs and bars were in full swing, thumping music pouring into the streets as the noisy, colorful people poured in.

Knuckles passed these by and headed down to BARBON'S BAR again. He couldn't explain why. Perhaps curiosity, wondering if Rouge would be there. _Maybe she can tell me what happened yesterday_, he reasoned to himself.

Sure enough, sitting at the bar, the white bat was ordering drinks and scanning the crowd, likely picking her mark for that night. He strolled in and took the seat next to her. "Hey there," she said, tapping the bar. The bartender set out a glass for Knuckles and poured him a whiskey.

"Hey," he mumbled behind his drink.

"Nice to see you again."

He turned to her. "You don't seem surprised by that."

She grinned and leaned close. "Once you've had a taste of this, you can't stop coming back."

His eyes widened and he sputtered the whiskey into the glass. Knuckles coughed hard and finally asked, "Wait, did we—?"

"Oh, no," she said, a chuckle in her voice. "No, you were too out of it. What would be the point? But you didn't have a ride. At least you weren't so gone that you forgot your address."

They sat and drank for a while. Knuckles nursed his third shot and swilled the whiskey in the glass, a mix of emotions ranging from embarrassed to frustrated. "Thanks for driving me home."

"And carrying you to your bed," she added. "You're pretty heavy for someone who can chase down a robot. That speed come with the training?" she nodded at his gloves. "Figure you're either a boxer or a trainer. Or do you just wear those for show?"

"A bit of both, I guess," he said, ordering another drink. "And what do you do?"

"Freelance. I acquire things that people want."

The way she let the statement hang was a clear bait for him to ask for clarification. Knuckles took a sip and bit. "What sort of things?"

She leaned over, her shoulder rubbing his and whispered in his ear. "Whatever they want." Her heavy perfume was intoxicating and sent Knuckles into a garden, full of exotic and unique species of plant life. Mixed with the alcohol, his mind was drifting away, losing itself in the lush green. "As long as the money is good."

"And what do you want?" She started, stunned for a moment and when she didn't answer, he repeated himself. "What do you want from me?"

She smiled, regaining her former flirtatious grin. "I figure you owe me after last night."

"I don't have much on me," he said.

Rouge chuckled and shook her head. "I'm not on the clock, Knucklehead. This is for me." Her hand snaked down to his thigh and squeezed it as her eyelids lowered suggestively. Knuckles set down his drink, entrapped in her gaze. She pressed her face into his, her lips inches from his own. "Let's take this back to your place and discuss recompense."

Against what better judgment that floated above his hazy mind, he agreed and they left the bar. Rouge unlocked her sleek, expensive violet sports car in the parking lot and they climbed in. "Hang on," she said, cranking it up. The car roared to life and then settled into a purr as she pulled out of the space and drove off to Knuckles' apartment.

* * *

"There!" Tails closed the hood of the car and polished off a spot of dirt. "All done." Sonic hopped off a pile of tires and examined the car, his smile growing wider and wider.

"Excellent work, bud." He slapped a roll of bills into Tails' hand, who tried to return the change. "For working so fast," Sonic said, closing the younger's fist.

"Just in time, too," Amy said, coming into the garage. She had left hours ago to find out where the next race would take place. "Mighty says it's happening at the Green Hills on the outskirts of town in a couple of hours." The hedgehogs climbed into the car.

"Could I come with you?" Tails asked, cleaning his gloves. "I'd love to see how fast you can go."

"Tails," Emerl shouted from his office, "those races are too dangerous for someone your age."

"He's right," Amy said.

With that, they left Tails behind, grumbling and pouting. "I'm not too young for them," he said to himself, throwing his towel onto the workbench. He counted the money, adding it mentally to their current funds. Despite Sonic's generous nature, Fang's damage was great and they were still short several expensive tools. Some of those would've helped fix Sonic's car, but with a little ingenuity, Tails fashioned makeshift tools out of others and worked around the situation.

But how long until that no longer sufficed? They needed tools, Emerl's condition continued to deteriorate, and the bills piled up. Tails put the money in the office and headed out to the backyard, hoping to clear his head in fresh air. Cream and Cheese were playing in the junkyard, creating a boat out of old doors and scrap. When she saw Tails, she opened up her craft and the bicycle wheel door fell off.

"All done?" she asked, letting Cheese take the captain's seat.

"Yeah," he said, sitting down on a toolbox seat.

"You don't sound happy. Is something wrong?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to go see the race at the Green Hills, but they wouldn't let me."

Cream kicked up her feet. "We could sneak out of here and go anyway."

Shaking his head, Tails sighed and stretched. "No, another customer might come in and Emerl needs my help. Although we'll need about a dozen more jobs."

"To replace the tools?" He nodded and she scooted closer. "You know, I do have a way."

"I'm not—"

She raised her hands. "Hear me out first. Charmy told me there's supposed to be a job going down soon. Maybe tonight. They need lookouts and the more there are, the better. They'll pay us all equally."

"Who's 'they'?"

"Don't know. Better not to ask."

Tails rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue. "Gee, something that shady _has_ to be worth it."

"It's one of the better jobs, believe me. And the money is very generous." She picked up Cheese and tucked him under her cap. "You don't have to give me an answer now. Just think it over. I'll let you know when it's time, okay?" She climbed out of the boat and bundled her coat tighter. "See you later."

"See you." He watched her leave through the garage and gazed up at the late afternoon sky. A star twinkled directly overhead and he almost wished on it until he realized a couple of others were off to the side. He randomly chose one and wished for a windfall or lucky break for Emerl.

_Perhaps this is the windfall_, he thought, mulling Cream's offer around in his skull. _This could be the help we need._

But throwing his lot in with criminals didn't feel right. He refused to believe it was the only way often, yet now, they were backed into a corner. _It'd be a lot better without old Eggman here. Wish he would disappear for good._ That was a day he looked forward to and dreamed of happening soon. He was sure he wasn't the only one and often wondered why nobody initiated dethroning Robotnik.

Then he remembered Fang's visit and how terrified Robotnik's henchmen alone were. The big boss himself—Tails' stomach flopped over thinking about standing up to him. Yet if he had a realistic chance of winning, he would do so. He felt empowered as he imagined kicked Robotnik out of Station Square and telling him to never come back.

When he dropped back into the shoddy boat, reality's greeting embrace frustrated him and he pushed it away. Tails climbed out of the boat, wanting something to distract himself. He dug into one of the piles of junk near the back, pulling out a rectangular metal box he had stored there. The large funnels sticking out of the box were scuffed and Tails frowned at their corrosion. As he rattled the box, very little liquid splashed inside. _Need more gas._

Tails set the box on the ground, holding it with his knees. _Should put some straps on this, too._ He would search for those later. Right now, he flipped the switch on the side and an engine rumbled and immediately died in the box. Tails wasn't surprised and looked at the garage. Emerl would be busy for a while. So he opened the box and set to work tweaking the machinery in it.

* * *

"Seems like you were quite the fighter," Rouge said, admiring the newspaper clippings on Knuckles' wall. He acknowledged her from the chair with a tired hum, the last few regrets of the hangover scheduled in the morning resting until tomorrow. "You still box at all?"

He shook his head and lifted an empty beer bottle to his lips. "No," he said, tossing the bottle aside. _Where's the painkillers?_

"Too tired to fight anymore?" She was in front of him, rubbing his hand. "Or is no one brave enough to challenge you?" Carefully, Rouge slipped off one of his gloves and touched the bandages. "Been punching brick walls?"

"Wooden ones actually," he said. "Chased down the thieves from the bank last night."

"Yeah, I know. It's all over the news. Did you pop your bones out?" Her finger trailed to a spike tip. "No, not bone. Metal?" She chuckled. "No wonder no one would want to fight you then. These can be deadly."

"Brass knuckles," he murmured, his mind heavy.

She smirked and straddled him, running her hands up his arms. "So you fight dirty. I like that." When she breathed on his forehead, his brow furrowed.

"No, they're only for protection," he said lethargically, the alcohol detaching him from everything. "They did it to me."

" 'They'?"

"I wouldn't throw the fight," he said, tucking his chin into his chest. "Won't play ball with them. Won't throw a fight for anyone." He turned his hand back and forth, studying it. "They didn't like that. When they came after me, I fought back with my brass knuckles." He punched his fist.

"And?" she asked, her arms draped around his neck. When did his second glove come off? When did hers? He leaned into the soft hand caressing his cheek.

"And they welded the brass knuckles to my hand. Couldn't fight anymore. Hands too damaged. No one would fight me." He straightened his hand on her knee. "Got the middle ones cut off. The others are in too deep." He looked up at her and her normally sultry eyes had grown soft, sympathetic even.

After several quiet moments, she opened her mouth. "Sorry for bring it up."

"Not your fault," he said. "Not like I can forget." Where were the painkillers? He reached for his empty bottle again, the tingling pain in his hand rising. Again, he lobbed it to the ground.

"Try to," she said, pecking his nose. "Here, I'll help you." She kissed his slack jaw and he gripped her hips, pressing back against her. Sharp, passionate breathing burst from their nostrils like pistons pumping in an engine, lifting up, pushing down, up, down. The rest of the evening was lost in a pleasant, foggy whirlwind.

* * *

In the setting sun, the miles of open fields were painted fire red and orange. A strong breeze traveled amongst the grass and all the blades bowed beneath its might. On the highest hill of the dozens scattered to the land, Amy and Sonic marveled at the vast expanse, untouched save by the single, curving road to Station Square. The city's lights brightened as night fell and looked like a distant firefly calling everyone to its warm shine.

Amy sniffed in a deep waft of nature and sighed. "I love the outskirts."

"Don't care for the city?" he asked.

"No, I love it. But sometimes, it's nice to get away from all the noise." Behind them, a few of the racers checked their vehicles, slamming hoods and ruining the quiet atmosphere all around.

"Yeah, I get you," he said, bobbing his head. "It's like you want to run through the grass and roll down the hills. And with the sunset, it's so," he snapped his fingers, searching for the word.

"Romantic?" Amy asked, purring and leaning into him.

He grinned sheepishly and scratched his neck. "Uh, I g-guess. But it's also free. Like the day's done, but you're getting a glimpse of your adventure tomorrow where anything can happen. Unknown and familiar all at once." He studied the fields, his eyes thoughtful and mumbled, "Familiar."

She smiled thoughtfully and stared at the hills, trying to imagine that experience. "Must be nice. Having adventures like that."

"I'm sure you have plenty chasing down stories." He waved a hand at the cars. "Tons of excitement, too."

"Not the kind you have."

He turned to the fields, the sun already gone and the moon bathing the land in a celestial glow with its starry children. When he faced Amy again, his mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to say something. It shut, opened, and then he was cut off by Mighty. "Everybody to your vehicles!"

Sonic and Amy lingered for a moment and she caught the "I'll tell you later" notion in his eyes. Then he hopped into his car as Mighty explained the rules once again. "Remember, this is a clean, fair race."

Amy was thankful for the lack of deadly or poisonous hazards this time out. Just a straight race to the city limits. She was also happy that Mighty had chosen a spot far away from any populated areas. As the armadillo pointed out the cameras attached to the wasp robots above, she scanned the crowd. The Babylon Rogues had entered Storm, the gray albatross and largest of their members, and Jet, who threw nasty smirks at Sonic. Here and there, a higher-ranking gangster appeared, some paying attention to the race, others mingling with the crowd.

Mighty stepped off the road and the flag came down shortly after. Amy stood in front of one of the televisions set up, watching Sonic.

He started in the middle of the pack. As they tore down the first hill, Jet overtook everyone until he was in the lead. On the first bend, they entered a tunnel cut into a hill. Second place tried to pass Jet, but he slammed him into the side. The driver sailed into the smooth, curved wall, driving along the it for a moment. Then gravity set in and he crashed and skidded along the asphalt.

The others held back, afraid to challenge Jet. All except Sonic. He steered through the group, avoiding sideswipes and faking out those blocking him. Before he took second place from Storm, the bird pushed him into the grass. His car bumped along, kicking up dirt, but Sonic righted himself and pulled back onto the road.

Soon, he caught up to second place again. And again, Storm tried to bump him off to the left. Sonic braked as the car neared him and pulled to the right. As Storm jerked the wheel to the right, Sonic yanked his to the left. They smashed one another, split apart, smashed, split, smashed until Sonic braked. Storm veered to the very right. This time, Sonic slammed the driver in the left rear until his wheels went off the road.

With ease, Sonic took second and approached Jet. They entered a dark tunnel. Sonic tried sneaking by, but Jet cut him off and braked in front of him. Sonic turned to the side, heading up the wall a little. Jet's squawking laughter echoed in the tunnel as he shot forward. Sonic followed, firmly holding second.

In the middle of a long stretch, he sped up, catching Jet within seconds. But as he started to pass, Storm reappeared.

Amy watched Storm crash into Sonic harder, slowing him down. Jet slowed as well and sandwiched Sonic between him and the other car, damaging Sonic's side. _No, you can't lose now!_ she thought. The Babylon Rogues batted Sonic back and forth like a tennis ball between them. The other cars were gaining ground, yet the Babylon Rogues didn't pay them any mind.

Sonic tried to speed up and stop, but they pinned his car on each side, the crunching metal winding up Amy's nerves. _Get out of there!_

Another tunnel was fast approaching. Jet gestured to Storm, who pulled back and eased over to Jet's opposite side. Together, they pushed Sonic to the left, aiming him directly at the edge of the tunnel's entrance. Smoke poured out of Son's engine and the car rattled violently. They kept pace with his speed and the other racers were almost on them.

He was going to crash. The race lost and possibly him, too. _No!_ Amy wanted to tear her eyes off the television. Any moment, it would all end. "Sonic!"

**A/N:**

**Sword:** *gasps* What will happen now? I must know!

You'll just have to find out next time. Hope all of you are enjoying this so far. Please leave a review or comment and let us know what you think. Thank you.

**Sword:** Let's burn some rubber and get started on the next one! *drives off* Onward!


End file.
